


Summer in Slow Motion

by muse_of_mbaku



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: F/M, Female Character of Color, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_of_mbaku/pseuds/muse_of_mbaku
Summary: A quiet night on the block while you braid Erik's hair.





	Summer in Slow Motion

Recommended Listening: Flex by Mad Cobra

Life is different in the summertime. There’s a fast slowness that you never really know you’re in the middle of until all is said and done. Sometimes it’s so hot that the only relief is letting the coolness of concrete stoops melt into the back of your thighs while trying to catch a stray breeze coming down the block. 

It wasn’t unusual for the real life of the neighborhood to start once the sun was dipping below the horizon. Without much pretense there would be the rending metal of the hydrant being popped open and the first shouts of a neighbor whose freshly washed car was the victim of a direct hit of city water. Between the jubilant shrieks of babies and the whoops of girls running halfheartedly from their now soaked crushes, there was a comforting din of a world waking. 

Tonight, was one of those nights the block was coming alive. 

You were resurrected from your position in front of an oscillating fan by the acrid smell of lighter fluid and charcoal. Soon enough, you knew there would be the sizzle of chicken and hot dogs, enough to fill the bellies of the smattering of people now peeking out of their doors and milling in small duos and trios. When the flat of your sandal hit the step, it was easy to smile. Your block wasn’t the best. It was far from gentrified, but it was solidly working class. The mix of elders and young families made it feel like home. You raised a hand in greeting to Mrs. Roberts next door. You knew she’d been perched on the cushion she kept on her stoop for hours. You’d be surprised if she ever went in. There’d been nights you’d emerged from an Uber after a late evening and there she was, a book of crosswords puzzles and a Pepsi at her side. 

“Hey, Mrs. Roberts,” you offered as you took your seat on the stairs that mimicked hers just in darker shade of grey. 

“Hey, baby. How you been?”

And that’s how the evening progressed, with banter between laughter and gossip and the occasional scroll through your phone. 

You laughed as your faux adopted daughter, a feisty little thing that reminded you of yourself, came with an open palm. You pressed a few dollars into her hand when she asked to go for penny candy. You agreed after her promise to throw a few Jolly Ranchers in for you. She’d returned with a bag nearly overflowing and you knew she’d caught the tail end of the week’s inventory and gotten a deal. 

Three peach candies in, the rubbery reverb of a basketball joined the noise of the now fully awakened block. Taking over the stoop across from you was your neighbor, Erik. You’d seen each other in passing. He always seemed a bit detached, like he was unsure if the world around him had good intentions. He was certainly a sight to behold. Even from a distance you could make out the stretch of his black tank across his chest and the way his matching basketball shorts sat at the crux of his hips. You’d been intrigued by his impressive biceps, but the ring of raised scars on one forearm was what usually drew your eye. The usually intricate braids that cradled his scalp were gone, replaced by a shock of hair he’d pulled into a messy bun atop his head. 

You raised a hand at him, saw him return it, and directed your attention back to your phone. 

“Aye. You braid, right?”

How he came to be standing in front of you without you noticing was beyond you. You returned your phone to the home screen and locked it before setting it next to your hip. 

“Yea, I do. Looks like you’re in need of my services,” you laughed. You gestured towards his sloppy handiwork. 

He chuckled as his hand moved to smooth a few stray strands. “Something like that. You free?”

You pointed to the step just below the one on which you sat. “Give me a sec,” you threw over your shoulder and retreated into the house to get your supplies. 

When you returned, he was sprawled on the step, his legs stretched out before him. You tapped one of his thick shoulders, prompting him to move forward enough for you to settle behind him. 

“Scoot back. What you want done?” 

Erik did as asked, braced a forearm on each of your thighs before dipping his head back far enough to get an upside down view of you. “Princess’ choice.” 

“Cool,” you mumbled before sliding the elastic band from his hair. It sprang free still partially damp. It was softer than you expected. It was clear he took care of his hair as well as he did his body.

“Tenderheaded?” You flexed your fingers against his scalp. 

“Nah. Just don’t’ try to kill me.”

The amusement in his voice relaxed you even further. You tilted Erik’s to the right, sectioning a thin piece of hair. The final pattern wasn’t quite set in your mind but you knew it would come. By the end of the second braid, he’d relaxed as well. He’d snatched your last peach Jolly Rancher and popped it in his mouth while you protested. When you shifted his head to glare at him, his eyes were closed and there was a smile on his face. 

“Don’t worry. I got you girl.”

You huffed in annoyance and sectioned another piece of hair. You were so lost in the flutter of your fingers you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled a perfectly rolled blunt from his pocket. It was the strength of the smoke’s smell that brought you back to the block. 

“You smoke?” One large arm was raised behind his head and hovering the smoldering blunt near your lips. You nodded and curled your mouth around it, drew in a lungful without stopping the braid in progress.

He clucked in approval and took a hit of his own. It continued like this until the blunt was another ghost on the block. Mellowed by the heat and the weed, the two of you watched foot races blazing a trail down the cracked asphalt between cars parked on either side. 

“You know I’d smoke you, right?” Erik was full of himself.

“Get the fuck outta here. I was three time all-city in the 100. Ask about me!”

If you could have bottled his laughter and every bit of joy around you at the moment you would have. You wanted this kind of summer feeling every day. That wasn’t possible, so when it came around you savored it. 

The final braid now complete, all you needed to do was secure the ends and give him a bun that looked like someone actually gave a damn about his appearance. Except you’d forgotten the rubber bands.

“Let me go get something to hold these ends. You need anything?” 

“Something to drink.”

You gave him a thumbs up and disappeared into the door once more. It took a few minutes, but you finally found the bag of tiny black bands and poured him a glass of juice. Erik was stretching when you returned, bouncing on his heels with his arms towards the sky.

“Sit so we can finish this,” you prompted him while handing him the plastic cup. He drank deeply before sitting the cup next to him. 

“What kinda bougie juice is this? No grape Kool-Aid?”

You sucked your teeth. “Cranberry Mango, asshole. And I’ll be that.” You tapped his head. “All done.”

“What I owe you?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“Nah. For real. How much?” He was admiring your work in his phone’s camera. 

You had to admit, he did look good. 

“Nothing, Erik. I was out here anyway.” 

He threw you a smile and a “Bet.” before crossing the street. 

Hours later, after the grill had cooled, bellies were full, and the block had turned down to sleep there was a knock on your door. Relinquishing your space in front of the fan once again, you caught the sight of Erik beyond the screen door. 

“What’s up?” 

He extended a bag towards you. You could smell the peach candy from a mile away. 

“Paid in full, Princess.”


End file.
